


Friction

by QueryingQuill



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling, Cuddling in the cold, Fluff, Lots of Cuddling, because i'm a sucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 10:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13316196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueryingQuill/pseuds/QueryingQuill
Summary: One cold and lonely night while camping in the mountains, Astrid and Hiccup share some much-need warmth, cocooned in their own little world. Pure Hiccstrid fluff.





	Friction

Astrid Hofferson was freezing. 

Frigid. 

Frozen. 

Frosted over. 

Turning into an ice-cube, for lack of a better term.

The heavy woolen furs she had cocooned herself in before falling asleep (or attempting to) did very little to shelter her skin from the sting of the arctic air, and even less to ward away the tiny, fluffy snowflakes just beginning to fall lightly from the star-less sky. She could no longer feel her fingers, or her toes, and she vividly pictured each digit slowly turning a brilliant blue beneath the covers. Her body had long since given up on shivering, for it seemed fruitless; her lips were chapped and blistering from the burning wind that rushed past and shook the branches of the empty trees; her eyes dry and aching from the bitter bite of the Archipelago's winter. She would have been fine she hadn’t neglected to pack warmer clothes for their impromptu expedition into the northern woods of the Piquolot Mountains. She would have been fine if the gusts hadn’t blown the campfire out. She would have been fine if she had decided to curl up with Stormfly and the other dragons in their messily adorable muddle of limbs and teeth. Of course, all her mistakes would have been easy to correct, but that involved getting up and out of the relative safety of her layers, and Astrid preferred to suffer only half of what the elements could dish out for the whole night, instead of the entirety of the weather’s wrath for a couple minutes. 

However, as the night wore on, she started to regret her decision. 

As soon as the snow had started, Astrid had glanced longingly over at the bundle of blankets a few feet away from her, knowing that he would provide more warmth than her layers could ever hope to (most likely from his blushing at the close proximity). Her friends, though, slept near, and if she and Hiccup wanted to keep their relationship on the down low, they couldn’t be discovered in such a compromising position by the other riders. She imagined waking up to the jeering sneer of Snotlout, the scandalized expression of Fishlegs, the utterly bewildered faces of the twins, and Heather’s smug “I told you so” grin. Not something she was too keen on. 

Astrid rolled over on the hard forest floor, feeling a twig dig into her hip, and telling herself firmly that she didn’t care, because if she did, she’d have to reach outside the blankets to move it, and her hand most surely would not return. She wiggled her torso irritably in a vain attempt at shuffling it out of the way. Sighing, frustratedly beyond all else, she curled in on herself farther.

Astrid had been sick plenty of times—once with a horrible hacking cough and bloodied phlegm at age six that had the entire village worried she wouldn’t survive; once with a stomach bug that had her rejecting everything slammed down her throat; more recently, she came down with a bout of eel pox that had her drunkenly tottering around her house hopped up on pain herbs. She’d wondered if that was how it would end—if this soggy heap of sweat and pale, glistening skin was how she would be remembered. Her nights spent tossing and turning with aching limbs and a pounding skull, grimaces torn from her raw throat with every shift of her exhausted frame were anything short of torture. If asked, Astrid would have, hands down, replied that those short stints of malady were the worst days in all her nineteen years; the lingering stench of stale body and rotting barf and sour clothes haunted her every time she so much as sneezed. Right now, though, she would take those sleepless, boiling hot, crampy, achy nights over this sleepless, freezing cold, shivering, frore night any day. 

Pursing her lips—which was painful and probably ripped the skin open in multiple places—she finally came to a conclusion: she didn’t give a damn what her friends thought. Better to endure the teasing and the invasions of privacy than the endless glacial winds. Resolutely gathering the blankets about her shoulders, Astrid stood up, stumbling a bit as feeling started to flow back into her feet with a barrage of pins and needles, and marched over to her sleeping boyfriend. Her teeth chattering, she knelt down next to him and carefully removed her pauldrons and arm guards, along with her skirt and (sadly) her boots, attempting to minimize the amount of metal she brought into the huddle.

As she pulled the top blanket back, he moaned in his sleep and shifted deeper into his bed roll, exposing his peaceful countenance. His lips were slightly parted; the worry lines in his forehead that had become a common occurrence during the day had faded. Astrid—as much as she hated to sound soft—found herself staring at him intensely when he slept, reveling in the fact that only she received the honor of seeing him in such a vulnerable position. With a slight smile on her face, Astrid crawled under the covers, tucking it around the both of them. Wiggling her way between his arms, weaving her frozen fingers into his shirt, and burying her face in his chest, she felt the heat of her breath radiate back. She heaved a contented sigh and burrowed further into his loose, sleepy embrace. It wasn’t until Astrid hooked a leg over his hip that Hiccup finally woke up.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice husky and laced with sleep.

“I was cold,” she answered concisely.

Hiccup let out a breathy chuckle, gracing her scalp with his warm exhale. He stretched his arms out behind her languorously, and settled his right hand on her thigh over his hip. 

“Obviously.”

She felt his other hand wander its way into her braid, combing lightly through it until it found the band that tied the end off. 

“Hiccup - “ 

“Shh,” he whispered. “You look so beautiful with it down, it’d be a wasted opportunity.” 

Despite hating the feeling of her hair as it hung loose, Astrid did love the feeling of Hiccup’s fingers carding through the russet strands, so she stayed quiet.

“Besides,” he added, the low and quiet sound rumbling in his chest. “You’re cold, aren’t you? It’ll help.”

He tugged at the end and the braid quickly uncoiled. Hiccup looped his fingers in her hair, and ran his hand through the curls. 

Astrid hummed into his neck.

Hiccup smiled into her forehead.

“You had a good idea,” he said finally, planting a kiss to her temple. “It’s a lot warmer now.” 

“Took me forever to make up my mind. Glad I did though.”

“I was contemplating joining you before I fell asleep.” 

“You should have. I was freezing my fingers off.” 

He chuckled again. “I can tell. They’re like snowballs.” 

Just out of playful spite, Astrid raised her numb palms to his face, cupping his cheeks. 

“Geeze! You’ll give me hypothermia!” Regardless of his complaints, he didn’t move. 

Astrid smiled with him, tilting her head up to look at him from beneath her eyelashes. 

His eyes were half-lidded, and in the dim and moonless night, it was hard to tell what he was thinking. 

Astrid scraped her fingertips against the day-old stubble adorning his jaw - an activity that had become a habit for her in their most intimate moments. 

It was his turn to hum contentedly. 

His hand in her hair stopped moving at the base of her head, and he gently pushed her forward—into a kiss. 

It was slow and lazy - Astrid’s arms curled around his neck, and Hiccup’s equally cold fingers pushed her tunic up slightly to cradle her closer to his body. It was casual swipes to tongues, soft scrapes of teeth, and gentle caresses all intended to get the other as close as possible. They parted once for air before they were lip-locked again, taking their sweet time. Astrid’s hands and feet slowly regained warmth as Hiccup reached down to rub her toes, and untangled her fingers from his hair to press them under his shirt and on his chest, never once breaking away.  
She could feel his heartbeat against his ribcage, a steady rhythm that was devoid of the frantic pace that had been commonplace during the nascent stages of their relationship. She mumbled incoherently at the feeling of his smooth skin and lean muscles beneath her palms. 

Hiccup snickered into the kiss. “Miss me?” 

She smacked his shoulder, but nonetheless tittered herself. It had been quite a while since things had progressed to a physical level between them. Between Viggo and Berk and the Dragon Eye, they hadn't really had the time for anything other than a swift peck. She honestly did miss the nights tangled together in his bed, cuddling close to seize the rapidly escaping warmth, or the mid-afternoon assignations on newly discovered islands, heat entirely dependent on their fervid movements and torturous friction. It wasn't a desperate need, though, to feel him pressed against her—and aspect Astrid cherished. They didn't need the physicality to verify their happiness. They were perfectly content with simply being in each other's presence, laughing at corny jokes, sharing secret smiles, and goofing off in ways only best friends could. 

While most couples Astrid met relied on physical intimacy, Hiccup and she had progressed to a relationship involving emotional intimacy. 

And she loved it.

Hiccup caught her wrist on its retreat, gently pinching it between long fingers. His lips parted in a sort of reverence that became habit even before they had started dating, as if she had fallen from heaven. She felt her cheeks warming, no doubt flushing ridiculously. Hiccup was probably beyond elated—he took so much pride in his ability to make her gush like a giggling pre-teen. Soft fingertips glided over her hand, hooking her digits over his, and bringing her knuckles to his lips. 

“Stop it,” she chided, uncommitted. 

“They’re still frigid,” he commented, eyes never leaving hers. “Is your other hand cold, too?” He didn't wait for an answer, simply grabbed her left hand and raised it to join the other. Evidently deciding they were colder than acceptable, he huffed a cloud of hot air over their entwined fingers. 

A shuffle echoed from across the campsite, and both of them stiffened, trading momentary looks of identical panic. If one of their friends woke up and found Astrid’s place empty…

Footsteps padded across the stony dirt, petrified blades of grass crunching under heels that advanced towards the couple. Hiccup stifled a yelp, placed an anxious hand atop his girlfriend’s head and pushed her down, stuffing her face into his abdomen in an attempt to conceal the incriminating evidence of their relationship. 

A stifled and indignant “what!” came from below the furs, and Astrid struggled infuriatedly against the offending movement. Her heartbeat sped up as she took a deep breath of the stuffy air filled with the musty odor of unopened closets, and she clawed at Hiccup’s wrist. 

A curious, low warble interrupted her plight, and the pressure on the top of her head lessened considerably, allowing Astrid to resurface and roll over in their burrito. Toothless whined pitifully as he pawed desperately at Astrid’s leg, ears flattened against his inky scales and gums bared in an adorable pleading smile. 

“Odin’s ghost, Hiccup. It’s just your dragon!” she snapped.

She could feel his embarrassment emanating from every pore. “Sorry,” he stuttered. 

Astrid heaved an enormous sigh and gave Toothless a commiserating pat. She clicked her fingers by her feet and the dragon obediently followed the direction, slumping down with a muted thump on top of the extra blankets. Rolling over, she gave Hiccup a soft smack on the forehead. 

“Owww,” he griped. “Why do you keep abusing me?”

Astrid ignored the question. “You’re a dork,” she scolded, settling back down in his arms.

“Yes,” he conceded. “But I’m your dork.”

Astrid laughed, a genuine show of mirth that had been absent from her life for a couple weeks now. “Not to mention cheesy. And cliché.” 

He smiled again (Astrid noticed there seemed to be a lot of that going on), and smoothed his palm in circles over her back. 

Astrid’s eyes started drifting closed, now droopy from the much needed heat and weighed down by the anchor of slumber. Her mind sank into the fog creeping through her senses and she let out a yawn fit for a giant. 

“Remind me again,” she muttered around the yawn, “why you decided that searching for dragons in the middle of Vetr was a good idea?”

Hiccup leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on her shoulder. Her face smashed into his neck, but this time, she didn’t mind, grateful for the loving embrace.

“I don’t know. Remind me never to do it again, though.”

“How did the idea even surface though? Yesterday you were perfectly content with pounding out whatever inane project you have going on.” Her words were muffled from the fabric of his fur doublet. It took him a moment to decipher what she’d said. 

He shrugged. “It really wasn’t my idea. Fishlegs suggested it.”

“Of course Fish suggested it,” Astrid grumbled. “Idiot.”

Hiccup scoffed softly. “You came, didn’t you?”

Astrid pulled back just a smidge, enough to look her boyfriend directly in the eyes. She pointed at herself forcefully. “Yeah, but I had an obligation to come.”

“What obligation was that?”

She raised a questioning eyebrow. “You, stupid.”

The smile that pressed against her skin was more effective than any fur cloak.

“I—oh,” he decided.

She wriggled farther away and studied his expression. His haphazard russet hair flopped in front of his eye, crinkled against the mound of wadded up blanket he’d fashioned as a pillow. A half smile danced across his lips slyly, and he brushed his knuckles against her cheek. 

“You think I’m an idiot, too,” she accused, punctuating her point with a series of forceful jabs to his chest. 

His smile slowly melted. “I—you—seriously, you decided to leave the safety of your heated hut back on Berk for a trip you’d heard about the day you were supposed to leave. That’s a bit of moron showing right there. You traded a fluffy piece of cushion perfection for a sad little pile of withering leaves. Hence, you are an idiot.”

Astrid blinked, and then frowned doubtfully. “By that definition, you’re also an idiot.”

“But that was established a while ago.” Hiccup grinned, the gap between his teeth displayed adorably. 

She snuggled closer again, rubbing her thigh over his hip for added heat. 

Friction. Wonderful friction. The force that warmed her heart and stoked her passion and gave her a purpose. This was how love was supposed to feel: trapped in the supreme tug of someone else’s gravity, constantly hurtling towards each other, colliding, crashing. They were mutual. Partners. Equals. And their monumental ardor fueled their actions. Their friction gave them life. 

Astrid pressed a gentle kiss to Hiccup’s neck, noticing that his breathing had become shallow and steady in their comfortable silence. 

“Love you,” she hummed. 

Hiccup exhaled a soft murmur in a sleepy response. 

It wasn’t long before she joined him in the haven of dreamland.


End file.
